


You’ll never make a good Centaurian

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Prompted Works [16]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Abuse, Alien Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “You’ll never make a good Centuarian.That’s what they told me. Right before they cut off my headfin and kicked me off the planet. I miss that place.”The origins of the new comic Yondu.Ravager Week Day Six: Comic Ravagers





	You’ll never make a good Centaurian

**Author's Note:**

> The quote comes from Star-Lord 2015 which is where the new comic version of Yondu and the Ravagers is introduced. He's not the Yondu that's a Guardian of the Galaxy.

Yondu tries to run.

There are trees all around him. If he’s fast enough, he can leap up, grab one of the lower branches, and haul himself to safety. Then he will run through the trees and get away as quickly as he can, hopefully losing his pursuers - the people he had thought were his family - in the dense foliage.

He’s not fast enough.

His hand wraps around a branch and he grabs, trying to pull himself up, but there are hands on him, and someone grabs him by his pouch and pulls. Something tears. He screams. Grip coming loose he slams to the ground, falling to his knees and moaning in pain. They take no pity, grabbing him and pulling him to the center of the village, ignoring his sobs, his pleas. They don’t care, he gets less respect than the animals they hunt in the forests.

They throw him to the ground and he doesn’t move. It’s too late, the pain from his ripped pouch is too much, he can’t run. He screams for his mother, his father, for anyone, but no one steps forward to defend him.

The village elder steps forward, a knife in his hand, the one Yondu had fled from only moments before. He knows what’s coming. “Please,” he whispers as his head is pulled back. “Please, just let me go. Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He hears the first cut before he feels it. The skin rips away like fabric and at first, he thinks it’s not going to be as bad as he’d feared. Then the sensation kicks in and it’s a million times worse. Yondu screams until his lungs give out, begs, pleads. 

He’ll do anything to make it stop, but when it finally does it’s because it’s over. His fin - his beautiful, tall talhei - lays beside him in the dirt. Unable to move, he lays there, staring at him, refusing to process what just happened. It couldn’t be. Surely it was just a nightmare. He was going to wake up and everything was going to be fine…. Right?

But it doesn’t end, and the warriors that had caught him pull him to his feet, dragging him to the pole beside the village square. He’ll be left there, his fin at his feet, his pouch in shreds, to serve as an example to those who come after him. They’ll leave him to die and he welcomes it.

Hours drag by, the sun sets, few bother to even look at him, some throw stones. Yondu remains passive, trying to think of a better time.

Night falls.

So does Yondu.

He hits the ground, not looking back to see who freed him, just grabbing the knife they’d shoved through his Tahlei to pin it to the pole beside him - he deserves it, after what they used it for - and he flees into the jungle.

The trek to the capital is long and brutal, but its the only place he can get a ride off the planet. With crest missing he cannot remain. No one would accept him ever again. He doesn’t think he wants them to. With every step, his head throbs and his shredded pouch flops against his stomach, but he keeps moving. He must move quickly and get to help before infection sets in or he succumbs to the elements.

Yondu knows what he wants. He’s going to survive. He’s going to thrive. He’s going to prove them all wrong. He’s going to be better than they ever were, and he doesn’t need a crest or a pouch to prove it.

**Author's Note:**

> The ripped up pouch is based on what [appears to be stitches running along his stomach](https://sunflowersupremes.tumblr.com/post/174790489751/star-lord-2015%0A), also seen in Star-Lord 2015.


End file.
